But this all-encompassing pleasure was a shock to her system, nonetheless.
If she could, she'd stay like this forever, but they were far from done, and she wanted to tear his pants off and take him deep inside.
She sank to her knees in front of him and cupped his face in her hands as she leaned in to kiss him. Their tongues mated, a salty-sweet dance that was unbearably exciting. Dying to relearn his beautiful body, the hard planes of muscle and the deep indentations in between, she ran her hands over his damp shirt, awed by his broad shoulders, his hard chest, his impressive abdominal muscles.
"Dianna," he said, the low rumble of his voice making her want him more than ever. "I've never had a problem controlling myself. Only with you."
It was the same for her and all she wanted was to give him the same pleasure he'd given her. But even as she ripped at the buttons on his shirt, she knew loving him was as much for herself as it was for him.
At last, the buttons came undone and she stilled as she took in his magnificent bare chest. Tanned, with only the lightest sprinkling of hair between his pectoral muscles.
"You're so beautiful," she murmured. "I've dreamed of this a hundred times. Tell me this isn't a dream."
"It couldn't be more real," he said before threading his fingers through her hair and kissing her.
She was blown away by the passion and desire that radiated from his mouth and hands and body. Second by second he was sweeping her farther and farther downriver, heading straight for a waterfall, and even though she knew there was no way to be prepared for the drop, she didn't care.
All that mattered was the way she felt right here, right now, in Sam's arms.
When the kiss finally ended, she lay her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes to listen to the rapid drumbeat of his heart. His arms were wonderfully strong around her as he held her close and it was only the insistent throbbing between her thighs that made her shift away from his heat so that she could kiss his chest.
He groaned with pleasure when she found his nipple with her tongue. It had always driven him crazy when she circled it, then flicked it lightly. His excitement fed hers and she fumbled for the waistband of his jeans. The edge of her palm brushed against his erection and even with two layers of fabric between his shaft and her hand, her need was so intense that she couldn't stop herself from palming the long, thick length through his clothes.
He twitched once, then twice against her palm, and she was reaching for his zipper to set him loose, when his hand came over hers and squeezed.
Wait. Something was wrong. Something had changed.
It took longer than it should have for her brain to send out the alert that this wasn't a warm, loving touch; it was a warning.
"We can't do this, Dianna."
Alarm shot through her, fast and furious, embarrassment close on its heels. With fumbling hands, she pushed away from him and fixed her pants, her bra, her shirt.
Despite his previous warnings about staying away from their past, despite her own strong misgivings, he'd seemed to want her as much as she wanted him. And on the heels of her thoughts about second chances, she'd jumped at the chance to be intimate with him.
Why hadn't she stopped herself? Wasn't she older? Wiser?
Shouldn't she have known better than to dance this close to the scalding flames?
But just as she was trying to close the lid on her feelings for Sam, forever this time, she heard it again, a voice in her head saying, You fought for your sister. You fought for your career. Maybe this time you should fight for Sam.
A combination of feeling sorry for her and being scared shitless by almost losing her in the river had made him act stupidly. He'd been so glad she was alive, he'd given in to the urge to see if she tasted as good now as she always had.
Only to find out that she was so much sweeter than any of his memories.
Touching her, kissing her, hearing her cry out in ecstasy had taken Sam straight to the edge, even though his clothes were still on and he'd only gotten to third base. But then, when she turned the tables and started kissing him, it had been nearly impossible for him to stop, to take a frickin' breath and remember why making love to Dianna was a terrible idea.
From deep in his subconscious, Connor's voice rose up and nailed him. "She's bad for you, man. And you were royally fucked-up after she left. I don't want to see you like that again."
Jesus, how could he have forgotten? At this rate, he'd end up with far more than he'd bargained for when he'd agreed to help find her sister. Much more than some incredibly hot sex against a rock.
He'd end up back in love with her.
And then when she left him to go back to her glossy, celebrity-soaked world, he'd be staring straight into a black hole again.
Getting kicked in the heart once in a lifetime was enough for him, thanks.
The sick feeling in the pit of his gut grew as she scrambled away from him. He forced himself to stand up and take a step away from her, even though he was desperate to make her come again.
"I screwed up, Dianna." Each repentant word was harder to spit out than the last. "I lost control and acted stupid."
A heavy silence hung between them as she stared at him with unblinking green eyes, not saying anything.
"Fortunately, we're almost to the end of the river," he said, hoping that getting back on task would permanently halt this twisted game they were playing. "If all goes well, we might be able to get to the commune by tonight."
Hurt and confusion flashed across her face at his emotionless, businesslike words. He was back to playing asshole again. Making her come and then shutting down the second her orgasm was over.
Unfortunately, he couldn't see any other way to proceed.
Needing to break out of her sexual force field, he turned around and strode into the water to retrieve the raft. Minutes later, he was disconcerted to note that her eyes remained glued to him as he dragged it through the cold water and up onto the shore.
"Maybe it wasn't a mistake, Sam."
She paused, licked her lips, giving him just enough time to run through everything that had happened against the rock, all the places he'd kissed and touched.
"Maybe what happened was inevitable. Maybe you and I are inevitable."
Desire tightened around him with each word. He never should have kissed her. Never should have told her that he couldn't stop himself from wanting her.
"No," he said, acting instinctively to stop the pull. "You and I were over ten years ago. We're here to find April. That's it."
He watched her flinch at his hard words, but instead of telling him he was a jerk like any other woman would have, she took a step closer.
"I wanted it just as much as you did," she said, refusing to back down, to take no for an answer. "After everything we talked about last night and this morning, I think we agree that we're different people now. We both lived through the miscarriage. We lived through the breakup. I know why you acted the way you did. And you know why I acted the way I did."
Another step closer.
"I've never cared about another man, Sam. Only you."
So close that he could reach out and pull her into a kiss.
"Tell me you love someone else--tell me you've loved anyone else like you loved me--and I'll drop it."
He knew the lie he needed to tell to shut her down forever, but standing on the banks of the Colorado River with her sweet scent lingering on his fingers, he just couldn't do it.
"There isn't anybody else," he admitted. "There's never been anyone else."
Her eyes flashed hope, and he forced himself to say, "But whether we've loved other people doesn't matter, Dianna. This is still a bad idea."
He watched as she pulled back her shoulders, straightened her spine, and tilted her chin, gearing up for a battle.
"You say we were over ten years ago, but you touch me like we're just getting started," she challenged. "Give me one good reason we shouldn't try again."
Fuck. Thus far
he'd been able to keep his period of self-destruction buried. But she'd never drop the notion of getting back together, of trying again, if he didn't lay everything on the line.
"When you left--"
Shit, sacrificing his pride was harder than he'd thought it would be.
"I fought every goddamned fire this side of the Mississippi, but I just couldn't get over you."
She took another step closer, coming only inches away. "I couldn't get over you either, Sam."
He held up a hand to halt her forward momentum. "You asked for a reason and I'm giving you one. You went to San Francisco and grabbed a better life with both hands. I almost threw mine away."
Confusion furrowed her brows. "What are you talking about? You're still a hotshot. Still living in Tahoe surrounded by your friends, your crew, and your brother."
"I almost lost it all, Dianna. I jumped straight into a black hole, wanted it to swallow me up."
Shaking her head as if nothing he was saying made sense, she said, "I don't get it. What do you mean, black hole?"
He ran his hands through his hair, hating every second of soul baring. He would have happily given up a limb instead.
"After you left, I reverted to the same place I was in during high school. But worse. More drinking. More all-nighters. Waking up and not knowing where I was. Skipping out on the rest of the crew. Not showing up for fires and working half-assed and hungover when I managed to get up the mountain."
Understanding suddenly flooded her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, "sorry about everything." Her eyes clouded with regret. "When I look back now, I can see what a scared, confused eighteen-year-old kid I was," she admitted softly. "If I'd known what was going to happen, what leaving would do to both of us, I never would have ..." She let the rest of her sentence fall away, saying instead, "You can't beat yourself up for one bad choice, Sam."
"It wasn't one bad choice, it was a hundred bad choices. If it weren't for Connor ..."
He didn't bother to finish his sentence. He'd saved her once, but she'd left him anyway. Maybe she'd only needed him to get away from her mother and out of the trailer park. Maybe not.
Either way, odds were, as soon as they found April, this rush of adrenaline--a rush that felt like desire and love--would dissipate.
And she'd walk away from him again.
"Look, I get why you're thinking about second chances. You've survived two big accidents. But you were right when you said that we've changed. We're in two different worlds now."
Her eyes were flashing and he knew he was hurting her again with his harsh words, but it was better to sever the thin thread that remained between them now, rather than the mess of trying to untangle themselves later.
Climbing back into the raft, he said, "You ready to get going again? We don't want to waste any more time."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS only Dianna's years of learning to keep calm in front of the camera no matter what her guest was doing or saying that enabled her to steadily hold Sam's gaze after he'd ripped her to shreds.
But on the inside, she was in pieces. Just as she'd been the day she'd left Lake Tahoe.
He was the only man who'd ever made her break her vow to depend only on herself. She couldn't let herself do it again.
Take their conversation during lunch, for example. He'd gotten her to talk freely about April, about her career, but then when it was his turn to share, he'd clammed up and held her at arm's length.
It hurt like hell to watch him be so guarded, to know that he didn't want to trust her with what was in his heart. Yes, she now saw that she'd betrayed his trust all those years ago by leaving. But she'd been young and scared and stupid. Was her behavior as an eighteen-year-old really enough of an excuse for him to keep pushing her away?
She didn't trust herself to speak as she climbed on to her side of the raft. They paddled for another thirty minutes in silence without any other disasters, but the small comfort zone they'd found during their lunch on the riverbank had been blown to smithereens by the sexual encounter and then their very unsatisfactory post-makeout discussion.
A short while later, Sam steered them back over to the edge of the river.
"This is as far as we go by water."
She got off the raft, and as it deflated, he methodically laid out an overwhelming array of rock-climbing gear. Looking up at the quartz slab, which had to be several stories high, she was newly shaken.
How could she possibly climb a rock face with no experience ... and a borderline fear of heights?
He held a harness out, clearly expecting her to step into it. But although she knew Sam was a man of few words, it didn't seem the least bit fair that he should unilaterally decide to shut down their dialogue.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to shore up her insides for the roller coaster her words were about to launch.
"You might be done talking about what happened with us, Sam, but I'm not. You got to ask your big question; now it's my turn."
He was an impenetrable wall before her, his eyes shuttered, the lines of his body stiff and unyielding. There was no satisfaction in knowing that Sam was cornered, with no place to run.
"Go ahead."
Working to project a serene confidence she certainly didn't feel, she said, "If you cared so much about me that you fell apart when I left, then why didn't you come after me?"
She held her breath as she waited for his response, her heart kicking up so fast she could have been sprinting, rather than standing still.
"I did come after you," he finally admitted. "A couple of weeks after you left Lake Tahoe."
Oh God, all this time she'd assumed that he'd been happy to see her go. Was there more to the story? Had she been wrong all these years?
Sam watched confusion, even doubt, run across Dianna's beautiful face.
"But I never saw you," she protested, before admitting, "I didn't exactly make myself easy to find, did I?"
"I found you," he said, his words harder than they should be.
Her hands moved to her chest, almost as if she felt the need to shield her heart from him.
"Then why didn't you tell me you were there?"
He dropped the harness to the sand and moved away from her, remembering that unseasonably warm day in foggy San Francisco. He'd parked outside the return address on the letter from Dianna that he'd found in a pile of her mother's unopened mail in the trailer. Donna hadn't seemed to know--or care--that her daughter had broken up with her fiancee and skipped town, and Sam couldn't help but wonder if Dianna was running away from more than just him.
He'd been about to get out of his truck when he saw her, walking out of the apartment building. Her hair was blonder, softer somehow. Her clothes were different. Fit her better than anything he'd ever seen her wear. Even her green eyes seemed brighter.
"You were already different," he explained.
And then she'd waved at a skinny guy on a bike who came over to say hi and her smile was bigger than Sam could remember seeing. At least since the miscarriage.
"It wasn't hard to figure out that you already had a new job. New friends. And it looked to me like your new world fit you so well, so much better than being some kid from a trailer park ever did." He let out a long breath. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to walk away? To accept that you were finally in your right place?"
Dropping her hand from her chest, she reached out to him. "If I'd known you were there, then maybe I--"
"Maybe you would have what? Married me anyway and had a bunch of babies?" He scowled. "I don't think so."
"How can you say that?"
"You're the one who wanted to postpone the wedding. Not me."
Clearly stung by his accusation, she said, "It sure seemed to me that you were perfectly happy to postpone the wedding, too. I'll never forget that day I told you I'd taken the pregnancy test. You looked like I was holding a gun to your head, saying, 'Marry me or else.' All my life I'd told myself I wasn't going to repeat my mother's mista
kes, but then there I was having some guy propose to me because he had to. Getting a marriage proposal should have been one of the best days of my life. Instead it was one of the worst. Because I knew how compelled you were to do the right thing. And I knew it would break us eventually." She paused, shut her eyes tight for a moment before opening them again. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon."
After ten years of shoving his feelings as far down as they could go, Sam could barely believe all of this anger and frustration--and love--actually belonged to him.
But more than that, he couldn't believe the things Dianna was saying. It was time to set her straight.
"You and I both know it wasn't like that."
To his amazement, she laughed in his face. Actually laughed. "You honestly expect me to believe that you were looking for a wife and kid at twenty? That you weren't wanting to go to bars, play the field, live your life like any normal young firefighter?"
What the fuck did she expect him to say to that? Of course that's how he'd felt.
"Are you saying that's what you wanted?" he asked, turning the question around to her. "That instead of wearing my engagement ring, you wanted to play the field and mess around with other guys?"
She shook her head, then buried her face in her hands. He couldn't believe how much he wanted to pull her into his arms. Even though they were standing on opposite poles.
"No," she finally said, when she lifted her head. "I was in love with you, Sam. I didn't want anyone else." Her beautiful lips turned down at the corners. "But that didn't mean I was ready for a baby. And neither were you."
There was no point in lying. They were way beyond trying to keep anything from each other.
"You're right, I wasn't ready." He hoped he could find the words to make her understand. "But that didn't mean that when it happened I didn't get excited about it."
A lone tear streaked down her face and he had to bunch his hands into fists to keep from wiping the wetness away from her smooth skin.
"I felt exactly the same way," she admitted in a shaky voice. "I couldn't believe how much I was falling in love with this little person growing inside of me. Because even though I knew we weren't ready, I still hoped we could figure things out." Her eyes closed and she whispered, "Instead, a piece of me--of both of us--died that day. And I didn't just lose the baby, I lost you, too."